Over a Candle

I have, for many years, considered getting a tattoo. I knew that, if I got one, it would have to be a rune. And because runes play so deep a part of my spirituality, I could not trust just anyone with doing the art. It would invariably have an impact on my own spiritual life. So I needed someone I could trust.

Unfortunately, I never really met anyone I got to know well enough who also did tattoos. So I sat on the impulse for over a decade.

Earlier this year, I saw an episode of Flashforward where a woman had a Japanese character tattooed on her wrist. It occurred to me then that I should get a rune tattooed on my wrist.

But I still needed someone to do it, and I needed a design. At first I thought I would have just a simple character, but I realized I should get something a bit more unique. I did look at designs online, and I found one or two I liked, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the runes I was finding (including Eihwaz, the rune for defense). I liked them, but I wasn’t sure.

Earlier this week, I finally decided I needed to get a rune tattooed. It was time, and I had to do it. But I still needed a design. When I began thinking about it a couple of months ago, a friend had offered her services. This is a good friend from the online adoption community I’m a part of.

I told Devon what I wanted. The rune for the Self, Mannaz, seemed the only real choice for the tattoo. I showed her a picture and told her what it meant. Then I gave her almost no direction in designing a stylized version of the rune.

Here is how Ralph Blum describes Mannaz in his work The Book of Runes, which I have used as a resource for more than twenty years. The following are the opening and closing paragraphs from Mannaz’s entry (in the upright position):

The starting point is the self. Its essence is water. Only clarity, willingness to change, is effective now. A correct relationship to your self is primary, for from it flow all possible correct relationships with others and with the Divine. . . .

If you take the Rune of the Self and cut it down the middle, you will see the Rune for Joy with its mirror image. There is a subtle caution here against carelessness. The dancing acrobatic energy of balancing is called for now – the Self is required to balance the self. Nothing in excess was the second phrase written over the gateway to the temple at Delphi. The first counsel was Know thyself.

With almost no guidance, but for a few comments on early drafts, here is the final piece of artwork that Devon came up with for me.

There is a lot of meaning in this for me. The first thing I noted in her original draft was the wooden look of the various stems of the rune. It seemed natural, made of twigs, and that look really appealed to me. That is preserved in the final artwork.

More, though, on the first draft, she already had the wrapped joints. I couldn’t exactly say at the time why they appealed to me, but I can now. It looks to me as though the rune is actually several parts joined together with twine. I do think that does wonderful job representing the different parts of myself, bound together, but not fully united as a single whole. My Self is made of various elements. Notice, too, that the central wrapping binds together Wunjo, Joy, with its mirror opposite, as Blum suggests in his entry. Devon didn’t know this when she created the piece, but her bindings were perfect.

She then mentioned to me that she was thinking of adding roots but worried that it could be offensive in some way. It was the whole adoptees not having roots thing that she was thinking of, I believe. But I liked the idea. My Self, cobbled together as it is, still has roots. So I encouraged Devon to add them, to see what they looked like.

She added roots to both the top and the bottom, but we agreed that it was a bit too much. She took them off the top, and I knew she was on to something. A couple of changes to the proportions of the legs and the width of the rune, and you see the final product.

When she sent me the picture above, it was a text message on my phone. And I knew immediately that she had given me the design I had long wanted. It was perfect. She had gotten everything so perfectly… I was in awe. I immediately wanted to show everyone. Heck, I wanted to go out and get the tattoo that day.

But I had to wait. She needed to hook her scanner up so that she could send me a clean copy. That happened Thursday. But I was too busy with other things Thursday to go to the tattoo parlor. So Friday, I went almost as soon as it opened at noon.

I guess Friday the 13th was good day for tattoos. The parlor was packed. I went up to the counter and showed them the artwork Devon had created for me. The guy thought that going smaller would lose too much detail. But a woman behind the counter immediately took an interest and set up and appointment with me for later in the afternoon.

I left for a few hours to pass the time. I was anxious to get the work done, but I managed to wait. Barely.

When I returned to 46 & 2 Tattoo, Stephanie had me fill out some paperwork and then ushered me into her chair. We discussed how it should go on my wrist, and she convinced me that, rather than going up or down the arm, it should be sideways, so that I could look at it upright, and also show it to others.

She shaved my arm and placed the ink trace on my arm. After discussing the process, I sat down and she got to work. It didn’t hurt much at all. I don’t know if I have a high tolerance or if I have few nerves on the inside of my wrist, but it was an easy twenty-five minutes.

As she worked, she talked to me. She asked me if my mom knew that I was getting this today. She said that she asks everyone, no matter how old they are. I said that she didn’t. Then I remembered I had mentioned it to my biological mother, so I said that, actually, she did. And then, in a fit of the weirdness that happens to me as an adoptee, I explained that I have two mothers, and one of them knew.

She then said, much to my surprise, that she was an adoptee, too.

Seriously. I mean, come on. There is a way this whole thing was unreal. She talked to me about my search and reunion. She asked me about my relationships with all my different families. She mentioned that she was from Kansas (one of two states that never sealed records) and had gotten her information five years ago, but had yet to actually search.

I knew, somehow, that this was right. In Devon, I had found the perfect person to design my tattoo. And in Stephanie, I had the perfect person to actually ink it into my skin. Sometimes, the universe will have its way with or without our planning.

I know you’re probably wondering by now, so here it is…

Now I really want to take excellent care of this. I want it to look good for years to come. I think the lines are even sharper in person than in this picture, but this gives you a pretty good idea what it looks like.

I cannot stop looking at it. It’s a beautiful piece. Thank you to Stephanie for doing an amazing job. And thank you especially to Devon for designing exactly what I wanted.

I had a different blog post planned for today. But that will keep. There is a photo I’ve been wanting for many years, and I finally got it.

Years ago, at least five by my count, I took a series of pictures of the sun setting over Maine. I was on the western shore of Grand Manan island in New Brunswick and just began taking picture after picture.

Here is the only one I have available at the moment, though it’s not my favorite:

When I say “series,” I mean I took roughly a hundred photographs of the sky changing as the sun set. In my favorite, the sun is more obviously present, but this picture is a fair representation of the photos I took.

Ever since, I have been wanting a photo of the sun rising from the eastern shore. In theory, this should be simple. The house we stay in, the house my in-laws own, is on the eastern shore, with only the Castalia Salt Marsh between it and the Bay of Fundy.

But sunrise happens rather early in the morning, and, as many of you will realize, I’m not much for going to bed early.

Last night, however, I did go to bed around midnight or so. So when I woke up a little after six, I wasn’t shocked at all that my body had given up on actually getting some much needed sleep. It did give me a chance to get my picture, though, and I think I got the one I wanted, though I do wish I had managed to get up a little earlier so I could have gotten several between pre-dawn and this one. Who knows? Maybe I won’t sleep tomorrow morning, too?

Two days ago, I visited a friend. She died during our sophomore year of college, and I have gone to her grave nearly every year since.

In the last two years, an adjoining headstone announced the passing of both of her parents. Since she was an only child, the passing of her parents seems like a second tragedy. Though I had never spoken to them, I did write them once, and received a nice letter in return. It gave me some comfort knowing that they were out there, that other people remembered my friend, presumably even better than I did.

Now, I don’t know. Am I the last person to remember her? Will I be the last to visit her grave?

People vanish so unexpectedly from this world. I don’t know that I think of death as a tragedy. But that doesn’t stop me from missing people who so abruptly vanish. And it doesn’t stop me from hoping they are happy now. And I am just selfish enough to wish they were still here with me.

Yesterday, adoptees, first mothers, and other supporters marched to support equal rights for adoptees. In case you haven’t picked up on it yet, adoptees in forty-four states are not allowed access to their original birth certificates. Every year they gather at the National Conference of State Legislators for the protest. This year that meant going to Louisville.

The night before, we made signs for use in the march. Much fun was had by all.

Sunday morning, we began to march to the convention center.

There was a lot of energy and excitement as we marched.

We got to talk to a few legislators on their way into to register for the conference.

But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t hot. It was. Very. Everyone was committed, but we needed breaks from marching.

We were told not to sit on the wall, though, so we took our breaks in the park across the street. The heat index was supposed to be around 110, and it felt like it. By the end of the day, we were all pretty tired. But we were happy for what we had accomplished. Literature handed out, news interviews, people talked to, and awareness raised.

The party afterwards suffered from a lousy restaurant. Extremely poor service and a failure to provide adequate space marred an otherwise wonderful day. But once we quit the restaurant, several of us hit a nearby pub and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

The only downside to the whole event, for me, was how quickly the time passed. I didn’t feel like I had enough time to visit with friends. Being surrounded by these people was both empowering and comforting. It was almost like a two-day long support group with a healthy dose of activism thrown in.

I originally did not plan to go next year, as San Antonio in late July is not my cup of tea. But now I don’t think I can wait any longer to see this group of people. I wish I was still there. So now I’m going to try to find a way to make it again next year.

And I look forward to the day when we don’t need the demonstration anymore, and we can just plan a weekend party. But until then, I cannot imagine a better way to spend two days than protesting with my fellow adoptees.

We left by eleven to drive to the Adoptee Rights Protest in Louisville. It looked to be nearly a five hour drive, but that still got us there by four. Plenty of time to check in and eat before the sign-making party.

Plenty of time, that is, if nothing went wrong.

Twenty minutes down the road, and the engine maintenance light came on. We pulled off at a nearby gas station, and I checked everything I could, which basically consisted of the oil level and making sure the gas cap was on correctly. But neither seemed to be the problem.

There is something so typical about this, that I wasn’t even surprised. Indeed, I think I would have been more surprised if nothing had gone wrong. It seems that lately all of our trips have some kind of snafu.

This was my grandmother’s car, so we called my father, hoping he would tell us that it was normal for the car and we could ignore it. But it wasn’t to be. Instead, he offered to switch cars with us. He drove down to meet us, letting us take his car, as he drove the other to get it checked out. (Turns out, it was the air filter.)

So we were back on the road, and on target to get to Louisville by five. The rest of the trip went smoothly and we found the hotel without a problem.

We met other adoptees almost immediately. First it was Theresa, then Jeff. There is something so cool about meeting other like-minded people, especially ones you have such great admiration and respect for.

We were starving and thought we had enough time to eat before the sign-making party. We found an interesting looking Irish pub, and it would have been perfect if the service had been timely. As it was, we got to the party about half an hour late.

I think I colored in one sign over the course of the next two hours. It was too hard to do that and meet people face-to-face who I had known forever online. Jeni, Kara, Julie, Dory, Joy, Elizabeth, Linda, Jim, Diane, Cheerio, Amanda, Spencer… I’m sure I’m forgetting people, but it was so much fun.

At the end, there was a brief workshop for how to talk to legislators. Gaye and Jeff did a terrific job. As a student of strategic nonviolence, it was fascinating to hear others employ the principles in a real training session.

After that, there was much drink to be had. Maybe too much. Though, for me, I’m usually so shy around other people, it may have helped loosen me up a bit, so I actually managed to talk to people. (I hope not too much. And I hope I didn’t say anything too stupid.) We had a blast. We had been told the hotel bar closed at ten, but I think the bartender realized how much money there was to be made and stayed open until midnight.

I wish even more of my online friends had been able to make it. There is just something so amazing about meeting some of your favorite people on the planet.

And in just over an hour, we’ll be gathering to go do what we came here to do.

I have a lot of cool friends. If I have been blessed in any way in my life, it is the quality of people who choose to associate with me. Seriously. I won’t even begin to list them all here for fear of leaving someone out, but I truly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such excellent people being in my life. Y’all know who you are.

The most recent tangible example of my awesome friends arrived in the mail today…

I have often told my friend Devon that her zombie creations (which I’ve seen in pictures) are wild. She needs to sell them. Of course, that probably means devoting a lot more time to knitting, which would cut into her gaming time. So I understand if she doesn’t want to. But she bestowed one of her creations on me.

The pink thing (she explained) were brains, in case the little guy gets hungry. I wouldn’t want him eyeing the cats. The hat comes off. And the right leg is a different color (because it’s rotting, obviously).

Very, very cool. Thanks, Devon! And if you do ever start selling them, I will plug them here.

Another semester has ended. I am exhausted. I have the weekend to recharge and then summer school starts.

There is much to do, and I wonder how I will face the next year. As tired as I am, will I manage with a completely unstructured schedule? I don’t know, and I find myself a bit apprehensive about it all. But this too will pass.

Summer has always historically been a bad time for me. And I’m a little troubled that it seems to be starting so soon. Still, I am relieved to have this semester behind me.

“for who knows what
the beginning will bring
if the ending will end
and our place in it”

Last night, this was the scene in our basement:

This the backflow valve that will keep our basement safe, with a knife valve for added protection. This should prevent the sewer system from backing up into our basement.

It was installed yesterday, but he didn’t have time to finish filling in the hole. So this was how it looked last night. And the water level in the hole slowly rose over the course of the evening. I was deathly afraid it was going to flood the basement, despite the plumber’s assurance to the contrary.

He was right, thankfully. And this morning (and early afternoon) he was back, hauling up broken up concrete and buckets of dirt. He also filled in the hole:

Now Ronni and I have a little peace of mind in the midst of all of this craziness. The forecast still has a 38 feet crest coming on Saturday. Still manageable, I think. Lots of work to do in the cities before Saturday, of course. And my back has been giving me problems for the last five days.

A strange footnote… As I was wandering the neighborhood, looking at the clay dike a few neighbors had installed yesterday, I saw something very, very… out of place. I’m still not sure if it was a wolf or a coyote. But it was not a dog. I was maybe twenty yards from it when I saw it in my neighbor’s backyard. By the time I got my camera out, it had gotten about fifty to a hundred yards away. But I did what I could. If I blow this shot up anymore, it will pixilate even worse:

I’m pretty sure that, whatever it was, normally lived down by the river (NOT in a van!), and was driven into the city by the flood waters. It seemed very skittish, so I doubt it was going to stick around long. I hope it’s okay.

The Olympics are over. As much as I am glad to have my television back, and you know, time to sleep, it is a sad day for me.

There were so many moments that seem emblematic of what these games mean.

Justyna Kovalczyk winning Poland’s first gold medal in the 30 km cross-country race.

Lindsey Vonn overcoming injury to win gold in the downhill. Bode Miller winning gold in the Super G. And then, heart-break, seeing both of them fall out of later races.

Steve Holcomb ending a long drought for the U.S. in the 4-man bobsled race.

Lindsey Jacobellis once again finding disappointment in snowboard cross. Shaun White repeating his halfpipe gold medal.

Alexandre Bilodeau ending Canada’s drought of home-won gold.

The USA women’s team ousting the favored Canadians in speed skating’s team pursuit, and the men winning a surprise silver.

Both the men and women’s USA hockey teams taking silver, both losing to the Canadian teams.

The scary excitement of short-track skating, with Apolo Ohno winning a record 8th medal, and Katherine Reutter’s silver in the 1000 m. Not to mention the surprise elimination of the South Korean team and thus the bronze for the U.S. women’s team in the relay.

The figure skating. All of it. From the victory of the Chinese pair Shen and Zhao (and the ousting of the Russians from the podium in that event), to the victory of Evan Lysacek, the stunning performances of Virtue/Moir and Davis/White, and the amazing Yu-Na Kim.

The heart-wrenching performances of Joannie Rochette who lost her mother just before competing. And the tragic death of Nodar Kumaritashvili just before the games opened.

These games have it all. Sometimes too much. There are all the things I didn’t mention, and some of the things I couldn’t pay as close attention to because of NBC’s decisions on what to show when. They become a large part of my life while their going on. I follow them religiously, sometimes in spite of myself. And I feel a little sad when they end.

So yes, I’ll go back to my life. And yes, I have plenty to do, and plenty to fill my time. But Sochi and 2014 cannot come soon enough for my tastes.

Apparently, we have as much water locked up in the snow pack right now as we did last year on March 15. What this means is that if we get any more moisture, we could be in a lot of trouble. Of course, we could be anyway, but more moisture would be a very, very bad thing.

On the positive side, this week should see daytime temperatures in the low to mid 30s and nighttime temps below freezing. This is ideal slow-melting weather. If we could get two or three weeks like this, we might actually survive this year.

I just thought I’d update everyone on the state of impending flood. I’m very cautious, with a small glimmer of hope, that I am almost scared to voice. We’ll see.